


No Heaven But This

by superhoney



Series: Regency Romance [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Weddings, the happy ending they deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 10:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19293541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: After many years and much shared joy and sorrow, the day of Dean and Castiel's wedding finally arrives.





	No Heaven But This

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last timestamp for the Regency Romance series, and it's the moment I know a lot of you have been waiting for. I'm so happy to share it with you at last. 
> 
> Title from Seraphina by Rachel Hartman.

It is decided, without much need for discussion, that the ceremony will be a small one. 

For all the pleasure Dean takes in arranging elaborate affairs, whether wedding breakfasts or balls or garden parties, he feels some distaste at the thought of his own wedding being merely another in that long line of successes. The hosting and organizing duties he has thrown himself into over the past years are his, and his alone, but his wedding is more than that.

It belongs to Castiel as well, and Dean knows he would prefer a quieter affair. 

Nearly a year has passed since Castiel’s proposal in Paris. While Dean originally anticipated a short engagement and a quick wedding, they soon found the balance of their lives too upset by the arrival of Aliette to even contemplate planning something as important as their nuptials. Dean can barely believe so many months have flown by, but spring has arrived once more, and with it, all the anticipation of a long-awaited ceremony.

On a rainy morning in early May, Dean awakes to the sound of the bedroom door shutting softly as Castiel leaves. He blinks blearily and rolls over, frowning. It is perfectly normal for Castiel to be awake before him, but he rarely leaves the bed without a kiss dropped to Dean’s forehead or cheek. His frown deepening, Dean rolls out of bed and tosses a dressing gown over his body, cinching it firmly at his waist before descending the stairs in search of his lover.

Low voices echo from the parlour, and Dean follows them without hesitation. The door is open, so he pauses to knock briefly against the frame before entering. 

Castiel looks up and greets him with a smile, something sheepish about it. “Dean. I thought you were still abed.”

Dean arches an eyebrow at Celeste, who is sitting across from Castiel, her bright yellow gown a welcome splash of colour against the grey sky visible through the window. She winks at him but shakes her head, refusing to speak.

“Plotting, are we?” Dean asks, turning to the sideboard to pour himself a cup of tea. He looks back over his shoulder at Castiel, who has adopted an innocent expression that does not fool Dean for a moment. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the whispered discussions I’ve heard you two having over dinner recently?”

Celeste lifts a hand to her mouth to cover her laugh. “I told you he was sharp enough to hear us, Castiel.”

Sighing, Castiel shakes his head as Dean comes to perch on the arm of his chair. “I can keep no secrets from you,” he murmurs. “Celeste and I have been discussing the best date for a very important event, my love.”

Dean swallows his tea too quickly, grimacing at the heat of it against his tongue. “You mean--”

“Yes.” Castiel looks up at him, eyes soft, and offers the small, private smile that is for Dean and Dean alone. “I think the time is right. I think we ought to get married.”

Before Dean can reply, there is a gasp from the doorway, and Aliette rushes in, her hair still rumpled from sleep. “Married?” she repeats. “ _Magnifique_!”

Celeste reaches out and catches her easily around the waist, swinging her up into her lap as Aliette giggles. “No secrets from anyone in this house,” Celeste says with a laugh. “Yes, _ma belle_ , there will be a wedding within the month, if my guess is correct.”

Castel’s shoulders shake with amusement as he continues to smile up at Dean. “I am sorry this was not a more private conversation,” he murmurs. “I had intended it to be. I had everything rehearsed, but--”

“But nothing,” Dean says firmly, stopping his words with a kiss. “This is perfect.” He looks across the room at Celeste and Aliette, who are already in raptures discussing what Aliette will wear, and feels his heart swell with so much happiness he thinks it might burst. 

“A spring wedding.” He looks out the window, where the rain continues to pour steadily down, and grimaces. “You are not without power or influence, my lord, but I do not believe even you can control the weather. Pick a date at random, and we will pray for luck.”

At that, Celeste looks up, eyes wide. “At random? But we must consider who else will be marrying this season, and whether St. George’s will be available.”

Dean feels Castiel tense, and he doesn’t even have to look down to know that his eyes will have gone tight. “No,” he says. “We won’t be marrying here, will we?” 

Castiel sighs, running his hand down Dean’s arm in a quiet gesture of appreciation. “We will not.” He looks up at Dean, raising one eyebrow, and Dean nods. “We will be married in the country."

Dean can see the flash of disappointment in Celeste’s eyes, and he does not fault her for it. He knows she only wants the best for them, wants to see them happy in front of the public, but neither he nor Castiel would be comfortable in such a large venue. The country estate has long been a sanctuary for them, a place of refuge from the hustle and bustle of London, and Dean cannot envision a more perfect place for them to celebrate their union.

“Well,” Celeste says brightly, her smile returning in full force. “This may change our plans.” She looks down at Aliette, tugging on a loose lock of her dark hair. “You will need a different type of gown for a country wedding.” Casting a knowing look at Dean and Castiel, she says, “Would you like to go shopping with me this morning?”

“Oh, yes!” Aliette exclaims. She darts a pleading glance towards Dean and Castiel, her eyes enormous. “May I?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. His hand, still resting on Dean’s arm, travels downward to brush lightly against his wrist, and Dean shivers. “We will need your expert opinions as to our own apparel at some point, but that can wait.”

“You are, after all, only the two most important figures in this whole affair.” Celeste grins as she extends her hand to Aliette to lead her out of the room. “We shall leave you to your discussions, my lords.”

Aliette barely breaks from her rapid-fire description of her perfect gown to wave goodbye as they exit the room. Dean watches them go, an indulgent smile hovering around his lips, then slides off the arm of Castiel’s chair to close the door firmly behind them.

He runs a hand through his hair as he turns, his smile shifting into something rather more seductive. Castiel, noticing the change immediately, sits up at attention in his chair, his eyes darkening in response. 

Slowly, Dean crosses the room towards him, toying with the sash of his dressing gown. “You left the bed rather abruptly this morning,” he says, voice low. “I am feeling somewhat neglected.”

“How rude of me.” Castiel shakes his head, one hand tapping restlessly against the arm of the chair where Dean sat. “How may I make amends?”

Dean drops easily onto his lap, catching Castiel’s hands in his own and bringing them to his lips. “I think you know.”

“Indeed.” Castiel tugs their joined hands towards himself, pressing a kiss to the inside of Dean’s wrist. “Let me--”

His words are lost as Dean swallows them with his lips, as Castiel’s hands descend to quickly undo the ties of Dean’s dressing gown. Dean arches into the touch, every nerve in his body already alight. Castiel’s mouth is warm against his, the hint of early-morning stubble on his chin provoking a delicious sensation as it slides against Dean’s face. 

The dressing gown tumbles to the floor, and Dean shivers slightly at the cool air on his bare flesh. With a knowing smile, Castiel pulls away from his lips to trail kisses down his neck, across his collarbones, his hands roaming over the lower portions of Dean’s torso and lighting a fire in their wake. 

Dean lets out a rather wanton moan, and Castiel pauses to grin at him, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Am I forgiven yet?”

“No.” Dean laces his hand behind Castiel’s neck and arches his back, luxuriant and shameless. “Not yet.”

Castiel huffs a laugh and scrapes his teeth gently against the side of Dean’s neck, provoking another moan. “Very well.” His hands move lower yet, one resting at Dean’s hip while the other wraps easily around his erection. “I shall redouble my acts of contrition.”

Dean is unable to form a reply as Castiel begins to move his hand in long, unhurried strokes. Letting his eyes fall shut, Dean leans forward and rests his forehead against Castiel’s, inhaling the familiar scent of his dark hair as the pleasure intensifies. 

He remembers the first time Castiel ever touched him like this, the slight hesitation, the utter reverence with which he handled him. They have grown so much more comfortable with one another since then, so aware of their desires and preferences. Castiel twists his wrist in a particular way that never fails to make Dean cry out, and he does just that. His harsh breathing is the only sound other than the slide of skin against skin and the rain that continues to beat against the window.

As much as he has enjoyed playing the victim, Dean knows all too well how much better it is when the pleasure is mutual. He shifts forward, unlacing his hands from behind Castiel’s neck and opening his eyes as he reaches between them to pull at the waistband of his loose trousers. Castiel’s movements falter as he hisses at Dean’s touch, then obligingly lifts his hips so that Dean can work his hand under the fabric enough to tug it down. 

“Now I know I am forgiven,” Castiel says, slightly breathless. Dean laughs and kisses him again as he closes his hand around Castiel’s erection. He is hot and heavy, and Dean smiles to himself as he strokes him, always proud of how much enjoyment he can bring to him. 

With the two of them working in tandem, it does not take long for their pleasure to reach its breaking point. Dean tips over the edge first, shuddering into orgasm as Castiel nips lightly at his lower lip. The intensity of his release causes him to stutter in his rhythm, and then Castiel joins him, groaning as he tips his head back against the chair and spills over Dean’s hand. 

As his racing heart settles, Dean feels a smile steal over his face. Castiel looks at him, eyes soft in the aftermath of climax, and tilts his head to the side. “What is it?”

“We’re getting married,” Dean whispers. Despite the fact that they have been engaged for over a year, it has never felt as real as it does this morning. “After all this time-- Castiel, we’re getting married.”

A smile of breathtaking beauty spreads across Castiel’s face. “Yes,” he says, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to Dean’s forehead, the exact type of kiss he would normally give him before leaving bed in the morning. “We are.”

***

After the banns have been read and the announcement made in the papers, Dean and Castiel find themselves receiving a steady stream of visitors wishing to offer their congratulations. It is both surprising and gratifying, and while Dean enjoys the way it makes the proceedings feel even more real, he notes the way Castiel’s eyes tighten every time Alfie brings them a new calling card, the way he visibly gathers himself before shaking hands with whoever has stopped by to wish them well.

It is with some relief, then, that they depart for the country in the first week of June. The stress melts away from Castiel’s face with every mile they put between themselves and London, and Dean rejoices to see it. The entire purpose of holding the wedding outside London was to make Castiel more comfortable, and though Dean knows he would never voice a complaint out loud, the past few weeks have taken a toll on him.

Aliette is travelling in a separate carriage with Sidonie and Alfie, so Dean takes advantage of the solitude to slide closer to Castiel, pressing against him until Castiel huffs a laugh and raises his arm to wrap it around Dean’s shoulders. 

“Is there something on your mind?” he asks, smiling down at Dean. 

“I’m sorry we had to receive so many visitors,” Dean says, grimacing. “The banns and the newspaper announcements certainly did their work. I believe we had more than half of London society pass through our parlour in the past weeks.”

Castiel laughs, tightening his arm. “I might even venture closer to three quarters, but yes.”

“Would you have preferred if it had been quieter?” Dean is not certain he wishes to know the answer, but he values Castiel’s honesty and the trust they have in their relationship, the ability to express themselves freely. 

It takes a moment for Castiel to answer, his eyes thoughtful. “No,” he says eventually. “I know where your thoughts have taken you, Dean, and I thank you for that consideration. We could have been wed by special license, it’s true, had the entire matter settled before anyone had time to offer their congratulations. But it would have felt--” He hesitates, one corner of his mouth turning up. “Rather havey-cavey.”

Dean laughs at his choice of words. “Havey-cavey indeed. It is only that--” He pauses, tilting his head to look up into Castiel’s eyes. “I know you disdain many of the formalities associated with weddings.”

“I do,” Castiel says, dropping a soft kiss on the top of Dean’s head. “But marriage is about compromise, is it not? You knew immediately that I would not want a large ceremony with half the ton in attendance, and so we are on this pleasant carriage ride away from it all. Did I spend many of those visits wondering whether our guests’ well-wishes were genuine or if they were simply angling for an invitation?” He shrugs. “Perhaps. But I bore it as best as I could, knowing what it would lead to.”

A lump rises in Dean’s throat, and he swallows heavily. No matter how many times they have been congratulated, how many times Sam or Celeste has beamed proudly at them and prematurely welcomed them to the ranks of the happily married, it never fails to astound him, the reality of it all. 

Perhaps sensing how overwhelmed he feels, Castiel raises a hand and runs his knuckles softly down Dean’s cheek. “I have no doubts about any of this,” he says quietly. “Not about the ceremony, or the locale, or the guest list. And certainly not about you.”

There is no reply that Dean can offer that could possibly convey the depth of his feelings. Castiel has always been the one to whom words come easily. So instead, Dean raises his face and pours all of his love into his kiss, knowing that Castiel will recognize it for what is is. 

“It’s a shame we can only marry each other once,” Castiel says when they finally break apart, his eyes dancing. “I rather like what these proceedings have done for you.”

Dean laughs and kisses him again. “I would not put you through this again, my lord. Once is all I need.”

“And you shall have it,” Castiel replies softly. “We both shall.”

With a sigh of contentment, Dean rests his head against Castiel’s shoulder and watches the countryside roll by. They pass the crossing where they would turn right towards Ellen’s inn, and Dean smiles, imagining some of their guests making that turn a few days from now. While the wedding breakfast will be held at the manor, all those in attendance have universally declared their intent to leave the house to the newlyweds, most of these statements accompanied by lusty winks. The church is approximately halfway between the manor and the inn, making it a perfect place for them to spend their nights, and Ellen was quite firm in her offer to open it to their use. 

Though he understands Castiel’s cynical reaction to the parade of well-wishers they received back in London, Dean attempts to take a more positive view of the situation. It is no small thing, to be so loved, either by one person or such a number of them. Never would he have imagined being in such a position-- preparing to wed the man he loves above all others, surrounded by friends who have become as dear as family as well as family lost and found once more. To have Sam stand as his best man, to look out and see Aliette in the first row of pews-- Dean feels breathless with happiness at the very thought. 

And three short days from now, it will be made real.

***

The day of the wedding dawns grey, a silvery mist hanging low over the gardens visible through the windows. Dean wakes to the sound of birds calling, opening his eyes slowly and stretching out against the warm sheets.

“Good morning,” Castiel says softly, his voice a low rumble in Dean’s ear.

They had discussed spending the night apart, but considering their history, it seemed a silly tradition to uphold. Now, turning over and meeting Castiel’s gaze, Dean is grateful they made the decision to not deviate from their habits. Castiel’s hair is soft and disordered, his eyes bright, and Dean’s heart turns over in his chest with the force of his love. 

“Good morning,” he replies. “It is the best of mornings, in fact.”

“It is.” Castiel beams down at him, then leans forward to nuzzle at the side of Dean’s neck. “How are you feeling?”

Dean tilts his head to the side in clear invitation, and Castiel does not hesitate in his response, trailing kisses over the newly-exposed expanse of skin. Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and it takes a moment before he is able to answer. “Amorous,” he says eventually. 

Castiel favours him with a decidedly rakish smile. “Excellent. As am I.”

His earlier lassitude disappearing in an instant, Dean rolls on top of Castiel and presses their lips together, reaching down to entwine their hands. As much as he might like to take his time, it would be rather gauche of them to be late to their own wedding. His need flares bright, and judging by Castiel’s reactions, it is equally matched. Dean slides backwards, dropping scattered kisses over Castiel’s torso, until he can swallow him down, hot and heavy against his tongue. Castiel cries out once, his hands tightening in Dean’s grip, but after a few minutes of restless murmurs and bucking hips, he tugs Dean up again.

“If this is truly to be a marriage of equals--” he says, arching one eyebrow.

Dean lets out a hoarse laugh and drops a quick kiss to Castiel’s lips before moving into position, turning himself around so he faces towards the foot of the bed. Hovering above Castiel’s body, he returns to his task with renewed enthusiasm, shuddering as Castiel’s mouth makes contact with his member. He remembers the first time Castiel had tentatively suggested bringing each other pleasure in this way, how intense his release had been. Something about the intimacy of it, the two of them working in tandem, never fails to set every piece of Dean alight: heart, body and soul.

He can feel his orgasm approaching, the muscles in his abdomen clenching in anticipation. As a point of pride, he holds back until he feels the first splash of Castiel’s release against his tongue. Castiel’s hands tighten on his hips as his climax hits him, the nails digging in, and the thought of him leaving a mark there, something for Dean to brush his hand against under his wedding finery, is what propels him over the edge. 

Rolling off to the side, Deans lets out a long exhale. “Mmn,” he says, covering his face with his arm. “Is it too late to cancel the wedding? I would like to stay here, just like this, forever.”

Castiel lets out a snort and pinches his thigh, making Dean yelp. “You would be rushing to the church in just your dressing gown, dragging me along by the hand,” he says fondly. “Five minutes, and then we shall go in search of breakfast.”

“Very well.” Dean rolls over and rests his head on Castiel’s chest, admiring the way the light sheen of sweat on his skin highlights the firm cut of his muscles. “Five minutes.”

He closes his eyes, and the next thing he knows, there is a light knock on the door. Castiel shifts beneath him and Dean grumbles, opening his eyes to see Alfie entering the room with a silver tray piled high with an assortment of food and drink.

“We thought you might be hungry,” he says, not bothering to hide his smile. “And perhaps not in any rush to leave your room.”

Dean laughs as he sits up in bed, the sheets pooling at his waist. Alfie places the tray on the table and drags it within reach, winking at Dean as he does. “You need to be at the church in two hours,” he warns. “Ring when you need me to help you dress.”

“Thank you, Alfie.” Castiel smiles at him, already reaching for the pot of tea. “As always, you anticipate our every need.”

Alfie ducks his head, but Dean can see a hint of a flush staining his cheeks. “We’re very happy for you both,” he says quietly, dropping a slight bow before beating a hasty retreat.

Dean lets out a quiet laugh as the door closes behind him. “I think the staff are nearly as excited about this wedding as we are,” he remarks, accepting the cup of tea Castiel passes him.

“Nearly.” Castiel shakes his head, smiling at him. “We are very fortunate in our friends.”

“We are.” Dean relaxes against the pillows, enjoying these last few minutes of quiet, Castiel’s warmth stretched out alongside him, the birds still trilling outside the window. “And we will see them soon, all gathered together to celebrate with us. What a marvelous thing.”

Castiel reaches out to touch his cheek, even that light gesture imbued with so much meaning on this day. “You are the most marvelous thing,” he says, and then their breakfast is put aside in favour of more kisses, more caresses, and more words that Dean will hold dear to his heart until his last breath.

***

Despite the pleasant distractions, they manage to arrive at the church on time. During the short carriage ride, Dean cannot keep his eyes off Castiel, the way his new light blue jacket clings so invitingly to his broad shoulders, his white shirt crisp and fresh beneath it. Dean himself is dressed in a soft grey jacket over matching white linen, and it is not vanity on his part to think that he has never looked better.

The carriage rolls to a halt outside the small church, and Dean takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Castiel descends first, then stretches out his hand to assist Dean. 

The next time they see the world outside the four walls of the church, it will be as a wedded pair.

Dean places his hand in Castiel’s without hesitation, and together, they make their way indoors.

Distantly, he is aware of the figures in the pews rising in unison as they proceed down the aisle, but all of Dean’s attention is fixed on the clergyman waiting before the altar. He is a small, smiling man, whose gentle good humour has always proven welcome on Sundays when Dean and Castiel have attended services here. Dean can think of no other he would rather have celebrate this occasion with them.

When they reach the altar and take their places, Dean catches a flash of vibrant purple out of the corner of his eye and turns to see Aliette in the first pew, hand in hand with Sarah. Discreetly, Dean winks at her, and she beams back at him as the priest begins.

Most of the ceremony passes in a blur. Dean is aware of the clergyman speaking, but his world has narrowed to Castiel’s face directly across from him, those beloved blue eyes gazing at him with such adoration that Dean can barely stand it. He only hopes his own expression conveys the powerful combination of love, pride, and awe he feels.

When it is time for them to make their vows, Dean repeats the standard words, then takes a deep breath before beginning the speech he has carefully rehearsed. “Castiel,” he begins, his voice sounding thick even to his own ears, “I have told you before I never thought I would be in this place.”

Castiel dips his head in acknowledgment, his eyes bright. “But ever since I met you, I confess I have dreamed of this exact moment,” Dean continues. “I have lived so much of my life in darkness, but in you I have found my light. Your kindness, your devotion, your concern for the well-being of those around, and your overwhelming strength inspire me every day to be better than I have been.” He pauses as Castiel makes a small sound, likely audible only to him, and smiles gently as he finishes. “I love you with all that there is in me, and I vow to cherish you as you deserve from this day until the last.”

The clergyman gives him a small nod, then turns to Castiel. “Your turn, my lord.”

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice cracks slightly, and a soft ripple of laughter travels through the assembly. He smiles, sheepish, then clears his throat before continuing. “We have been through much together, you and I.” 

Dean huffs a laugh of his own. It is an understatement, to be sure, but those memories cannot hurt him, not today. There are times he still wakes in a cold sweat, phantom figures crowding his mind, but with Castiel’s arms around him and Castiel’s low voice in his ear, they are quickly banished to the past where they belong. 

Today, they are looking to the future.

“I believe I began to fall in love with you from our very first meeting,” Castiel goes on. “You have brought so much joy--” he pauses, smiling-- “and so much chaos into what was once a settled, sedate, utterly boring life. For your adventurous spirit, your impulsiveness, your fierce dedication to those you love, and your impossibly generous heart, I am eternally grateful.” His voice lowers, and he gives a tiny shake of his head. “There is no one else I would stand here before and make this promise to: I will be beside you, in gladness and in despair, in suffering and in joy, from this day forward, and I will be so happily, for you are the dearest love of my heart.”

A slow tear tracks its way down Dean’s cheek as Castiel finishes. Respectfully, the clergyman gives them a moment to compose themselves before gently gesturing for them to exchange the rings they had carefully selected.

The gold is warm from Castiel’s hands as he slides it onto Dean’s fingers. “With this ring, I thee wed,” he says softly, trailing his fingers across Dean’s wrist in a caress.

Dean feels a smile of pure happiness break across his face even as his tears continue to flow. He places the ring on Castiel’s finger and squeezes his hand. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Hand in hand, they glance up at the clergyman, who smiles down at them with clear pride. “In the sight of God and those gathered here today, I pronounce you bonded in matrimony.”

As the crowd breaks into cheers and applause, Dean leans forward and meets Castiel in a kiss.

They have shared so many kisses over the years: kisses of passion, kisses of comfort, kisses of teasing and bright affection and shared need. Dean remembers them all, and has the overwhelming sense that all along, they have been leading to this moment, to this one kiss. 

Their first as a wedded couple, but far from their last.

Once they break apart, Castiel keeps Dean’s hands held tightly in his own. “I love you,” he whispers. “Husband.”

A feeling of contentment he has never before known washes over Dean at the sound of that word on Castiel’s lips. “And I love you,” he replies. “Husband.”

Choruses of well-wishes echo from the church’s high ceiling as they make their way back down the aisle, still hand-in-hand. When they push the door open and step out into the spring morning, Dean cannot help but laugh.

The sun has come out to greet them, shining down with a soft, welcoming light. 

Castiel glances at him, a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth. “Fitting, is it not?”

“It’s perfect,” Dean replies. 

Anything else he would say is interrupted as the guests stream out of the church behind him. Dean is immediately swept into Sam’s rough embrace, his brother thumping him on the back and grinning so wide his face is in danger of splitting in half. “I’m so happy for you,” he says. “For both of you.”

Dean swallows roughly and returns the embrace before being pulled away to sweep Sarah and then Celeste into his arms. Gilda, Ellen, and Jo are next, followed by Alfie, Benny, Cain, and the rest of the household staff from both the London townhouse and the country estate. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Castiel pressing a fond kiss to Balthazar’s cheek. Aliette is in his arms, beaming at them both, and when she catches sight of Dean, she wriggles out of Balthazar’s grip and runs over to him, ribbons flying behind her. 

“Well?” Dean asks, swinging her up into his arms. “What did you think?”

Aliette lets out a dreamy sigh and snuggles into his chest. Dean rests his chin on her head, inhaling the scent of the flowers in her hair. “It was wonderful,” she says.

“It was,” Dean agrees. 

His eyes meet Castiel’s across the crush of people between them, and he immediately strides forward to join them, pressing a kiss to Aliette’s hair and cupping Dean’s cheek in one hand. “What are the two of you whispering about, my loves?”

Aliette lets out a small giggle, and Dean smiles down at her before looking back up to meet Castiel’s fond gaze. “Oh, nothing,” he replies. “Just discussing how happy we are.”

“Ah.” Castiel slips an arm around Dean’s shoulder and gathers him close. “Now that is a conversation I can contribute to.”

Leaning into his embrace, Dean closes his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun shine down on his upturned face. He spares a moment of gratitude for the miraculous sequence of events that has led them, all of them, to this day.

And then he opens his eyes once more, to a bright spring morning filled with the promise of further good things to come, and drinks in the sight of his future.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe it's been almost two years since Rescue Me Tonight was posted. Thank you so much for sticking with this series for so long, and I hope the ending was satisfying! 
> 
> A few thanks: to the original mods of the Harlequin Challenge, for giving me the prompt that started this all. To everyone who has read any part of this series, thank you for your support. To Mary Balogh, who will never read this, but whose works have been a major source of inspiration for this series. And of course, to Anna, who has been with this series since it first started and whose encouragement has meant the world to me along the way.


End file.
